I am not the droid you’re looking for…

I laugh as I think these words. Full well knowing that they are the meme version of a famous Star Wars quote. And yet, this corrupted version is so appropriate in many of my life circumstances lately. And in the oddest of ways…

​I am not the droid you’re looking for…

Like when men tell me that, eventually, I will want to “settle down” and pop out some babies. They proudly relate how they will “let” me stay home and cook their meals and do their laundry. 

Puffed up chests as they suggest I give up my own exciting existence to participate in the mundane one they present to me on a silver platter as though offering me a long held dream (that only exists in my nightmares)…

“Why are you short staffed?” I asked. 

He responded so quickly the words practically exploded out of his mouth. “Because people are lazy and don’t want to work!” 

I tilted my head, a bit surprised by his outburst. He laughed self deprecatingly. “Well you know, haha, I mean it’s just hard to find people willing to take a job…” he trailed off.

I was sitting across the desk from a man who claimed he was interviewing EVERY person who had applied for the job which we were discussing. 

Yet although I had officially applied on the appropriate website for this position, I hadn’t received a call from him for this interview. He only scheduled it when someone on his staff informally introduced us and mentioned that I had applied.  Then that same staff person strongly suggested he meet with me.

Twenty four hours later, I found myself sitting across from him. 

​“Well you must have done something to provoke him…,” her voice trailed off.
​
“Yeah,’ I replied, “I did something alright…I existed…”

I walked away shaking my head.

I was so frustrated. I was telling someone about a recent experience in which a man approached me in the grocery store, and paid me a compliment about my smile. I said thank you, and turned back to my shopping.

I thought that was the end of it.

Then he asked for my number. I politely replied that I don’t give it out, but thanked him again for his kind words a moment ago.

And that’s when things took a weirdly dangerous turn.

​I once had a man of God, a preacher, tell me I was full of hubris and headed straight for damnation. He was furious because I told him I didn’t need a poorly written book, and sitting quietly in a big building being lectured at weekly, to know how best to live my life.

Perhaps I should have phrased it a bit differently.

After all, he was very concerned for my soul.
I, however, wasn’t sure he knew what my soul looked like.

He angrily asked HOW I KNEW right from wrong, if HE (or someone like him instructed in the ways of GOD - all caps emphatic in his voice) hadn’t told me what was what?

​I’m conscious of a craving - primal, visceral, raw, and real. It’s visual and tactile and goes well beyond any type of desire I’ve ever had before.

I’m hungry for it.
Didn’t even realize it until recently, when I noticed I couldn’t get enough of it.

Not chocolate.
Not sex (although that’s wonderfully primal too).
Not for luxury items or things…

It’s for…

COLORS
Not just any colors.
VIBRANCY

Along with the craving comes the incredible, enormous feeling of being 100% ALIVE.

I’m not even sure I am describing it correctly.